


Guilt

by bingbong21



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 02, lance is a sympathy crier lbr, let's make everyone suffer, romantic relationships if you squint hard enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bingbong21/pseuds/bingbong21
Summary: Sometimes you just need a reminder that not everything is your fault and that it'll be alright.





	

_Shiro…Are you there? Shiro!_

_Keith…I want you to lead Voltron._

_You were delirious with pain, Shiro._

_Good-bye Keith._

_Shiro…Shiro, no, come back! Shiro! Shiro!_

_**Shiro!** _

Keith bolted upright in his bed, eyes stinging and panting heavily. He stared down at his hands, noticing the fine tremble that had overtaken them; if he focused hard enough he could almost feel Shi-

No, he shook his head, no, there’s no time to dwell on that recurring nightmare. He has to be a leader now, has to take care of everyone the same way Shiro did while saving the universe from Zarkon’s wrath. Shiro didn’t get caught up in his nightmares; Shiro didn’t focus on how real it felt, how if he had stretched his hand just a little bit farther…

Keith punched the wall next to him in frustration, feeling the pressure of tears build up behind his eyes. It had been about a week now since Shiro had disappeared, and these…these _thoughts_ kept coming back, plaguing every hour he was alive. It was like when the Galra took Shiro the first time; he couldn’t focus, was having trouble keeping himself in check. Except now if he flew off the handle, instead of being expelled, it could prevent them from forming Voltron, which could prevent them from defending the universe, and then everything Shiro did would have been in vain and if he had only worked _harder_ , been _faster_ …

Light flooded the room as his door slid open; he hadn’t realized he had been pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he pulled them away to see who had entered his room. Lance stood against the doorway, face obviously covered in one of his various face masks despite the lighting of the hallway behind him casting his features in shadow. He had his arms crossed over the blue Altean pajamas that he had taken to wearing since their arrival. 

“As great as it is to know our new fearless leader is human too, _some_ of us actually need sleep to function.” Lance’s tone was terse, revealing his annoyance at the disturbances that Keith had been causing for the past week. Just another reason Keith filed away under “reasons why I shouldn’t lead Voltron”; it was really becoming quite an impressive list, if he did say so himself. 

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, laying on his side and pulling the covers over his head. “I’ll try to keep it down.” 

It took a moment, but the door eventually slid shut with that automatic sound they had all grown so familiar with. A few ticks passed before Keith sighed, pulling the covers off his head; he was too wired from the dream to sleep, so he might as well train or do _something_ constructive. 

Or well, that _was_ the plan before he was met with Lance’s face sitting less than an inch away from his face. 

“Quiznak,” Keith pressed himself flush against the wall, heart pounding. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

Lance waved his hand dismissively. “Please, like you’d really go out like that. But, to the point: you haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since before the whole Galra thing and, despite the anomaly that is Pidge, you need restful sleep to function.” Lance lectured, index finger raised as he sat on the floor, legs crossed; Keith had to physically blink away the mental image of Lance as a concerned mother. 

He narrowed his eyes; had it really been that long since he actually slept well? He hated to admit it, but everything since the arrival of Ulaz was an emotional blur. “I’ve been sleeping fine,” He lied; no time like the present to practice that unbreakable façade. 

“The bags under your eyes and the fact I’m in here tell a different story,” Lance retorted, internally marking a victory for himself when Keith’s glare intensified, indicating he was right. Always one to press his luck to the very end, Lance decided to continue the trek into the emotional minefield. “And, judging by the noises you make and the redness of your eyes, I can guess what it’s about.” 

Keith’s eyes widened, Lance getting the rare opportunity to see his face flush before he rolled to face the wall. “I’m not going to talk about it, so you can just leave.” 

“Nu-uh, nope, not happening.” Lance tutted, shaking his finger despite Keith being unable to see it; maybe he could hear it? Those Galra genes _had_ to have some perks besides having a forever membership to the universe’s largest collection of genocidal furries. “If you won’t talk it out, then I’m staying here.” 

“Why?” 

Lance shrugged as he repositioned himself to lean against the side of the bed. “When my siblings had nightmares, they always felt better when someone was with them. Said it chased the nightmares away.” 

Silence was his only reply; as expected from the resident emotional clam. Although, Lance pondered, he might just be a clam around him. He obviously opened up to Shiro, and Hunk said that he was supportive and made jokes during their mission to the Weblum. Even _Allura_ , Lance thought with a twinge of jealousy, had a heart-to-heart with him and time alone in that space pod; who _knows_ what they talked about? So caught up in his envious thoughts that he almost missed the melancholic sigh that escaped Keith. Automatically though his older sibling instincts kicked in, and he immediately tuned back in to the conversation. 

“I miss Shiro…” Keith muttered; Lance wasn’t sure what to say in response, so he merely spoke the truth. 

“We all miss Shiro.” 

He heard the shaking of Keith’s head. “Not like…I mean, Pidge _probably_ , but…”

“Shiro is the only one who’s ever cared, ever really bothered to try and get to know me. He was always there, always had advice to give no matter what the situation was. So much of what I’ve done, of…of who I _am_ even…it was all to make him proud, to make him smile. But now…now he’s gone, and I’m still here, and I don’t know what to do.” 

Lance opened his mouth to speak, to say ‘lead Voltron obviously, duh’, but Keith began to babble, voice rising in pitch. “I’m not like Shiro, I’m not patient or, or understanding like Shiro. He said I could do it, but I _can’t_ Lance, I can’t lead like Shiro.” 

“Maybe he didn’t want you to lead like him,” Lance murmured, head tilted up so he could stare up at the ceiling. “Maybe he wanted you to lead like Keith; ya know, be your own person and stuff.” 

“If I led like me, I’d get us all killed.” Keith shot back darkly; Lance blinked, lifting his head off the mattress. He turned around, leaning forward so that his crossed arms pillowed his head as he stared at Keith’s back. 

“What are you talking about? You led us against Zarkon when Shiro wasn’t responding and we turned out fine!”

“Shiro is _missing_ ,” Keith snapped, “That’s everything _except_ fine! I led, and now Shiro’s gone, and if I lead again then for all I know someone else will vanish!”

Lance couldn’t have stopped the question even if he wanted to, so busy he was with keeping himself in check; he had always been a sympathy crier, and watching Keith crack under the stress wasn’t helping. “Why…” He swallowed around the sudden lump that formed in his throat, “Why do you think that?”

Keith huffed a bitter laugh. “Because I couldn’t save him,” Keith choked out, “I wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, just plain wasn’t _good_ enough to save him.” 

“I thought…I thought the worst feeling in the world was thinking he had died on the Kerberos mission,” Keith whispered, “But this…knowing he’s gone because of _me_ …that’s the worst.” 

Lance felt as if he wasn’t in control of himself as he turned around, resuming his previous position of his back pressed against the side of the bed. He barely registered the tears slowly cascading down his face, not even caring that it was ruining the face mask he had meticulously put on before bed. He groped blindly behind him, hand finally landing on a firm shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” Lance breathed out, “God, none of this is any of our faults, no matter what we think.” 

He felt Keith roll over, and then a hand bare of a fingerless glove grasping onto his. He couldn’t help but note how the lack of the gloves seemed to only accentuate the vulnerability of the situation. Lance tightened his grip, mindlessly intertwining their fingers. He elected to not comment on the little hiccups and whimpers that left Keith, focusing instead on keeping himself from falling apart as he inevitably cried himself to sleep on Keith’s floor. 

He had almost successfully dozed off, both of their quiet sobbing having calmed down, when Keith spoke. 

“I love him, you know.” 

“Heh, was that a secret of something?” Lance mumbled; the light pinch to the back of his hand indicated Keith’s displeasure. He turned around, fingers still interlocked with Keith’s as he met his eyes. Later Lance would consider himself privileged to have seen their leader so vulnerable, cheeks flushed and stained with tears and the blue of his eyes so bright against the red backdrop of his sclera, unshed tears glistening in the low lighting. If he were being honest, Keith looked desperately in need of tight embraces and sweet reminders that it was okay to breakdown sometimes as someone ran their fingers through his hair. But Lance knew that this was neither his job, nor was it what Keith truly needed to hear at the moment; no, he needed to hear that Shiro would return to him, against every odd. 

“We’ll get him back,” Lance breathed; he noticed how Keith’s bangs moved with his breathe, “Together.” 

“How do you know?” 

Lance smiled slightly, resting his head against his arm. “Because I’m making a promise that we will, and I never break a promise.” 

A small smile tugged at Keith’s lips; he opened his mouth, most likely to shoot back a response, but was interrupted as he broke into a large yawn. Lance couldn’t help the slight chuckle as he reached out to unconsciously push Keith’s bangs away from his face. 

“Go to sleep mullet; can’t have you passing out behind Black.” 

“You…shoul’ sleep too…” Keith slurred, sleep already claiming its hold on him, “’s ‘n order…”

Lance couldn’t deny that he felt an exhaustion that reached deep into his bones, but he still had a job to do. “Can’t…” He yawned, feeling his face mask crack, “Can’t leave ‘til you fall asleep. ‘T’s the rules.” 

Even with his eyes closed, Keith managed to convey that he was rolling his eyes. He scooted towards the wall, other hand lazily patting the now open space for Lance. Lance, far too tired to overthink the implications and meanings about sharing a bed with Keith, let go of Keith’s hand and climbed in beside him. He sighed as his head sank into the pillow, eyes immediately closing in relief. He felt Keith adjust, face burying itself into his side as his hands fisted the Altean fabric. Lance’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling the comforting warmth closer to his body; he felt the puff of war air Keith released as he sighed, sinking into a deeper sleep. 

“Night Keith,” Lance mumbled as he slipped into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember kids, Survivor's Guilt doesn't have to be logical.


End file.
